Giving Thanks

As I get older, one of my ongoing struggles is appreciating my place in the relative world. In a fight with empathy, I would be out cold on the mat.

Mentally, I know there are millions and millions of people whose existence can be measured in a single word: survival. Millions in want of food. Or needing a malaria net. Employment. A family. A roof over their head.

And if I spent time in Rwanda or Mongolia -- if I felt the pain of poverty and illness first hand -- I’m sure it would change me forever, for the better.

Empathy would be tangible. It would be real.

But I’m not in Rwanda. Not even close.

I live in one of the nicest neighborhoods of Chicago, where my rent comes with an unobstructed view of Lake Michigan and the rising sun. Friends surround me and good health -- minus an aging back – is the norm.

An outsider would take one look at my life and tattoo a smiley-face sticker to my forehead. They would be right to do so.

There’s just one catch. I’m not on the outside. I’m as inside as inside gets.

And from inside the ropes, my life doesn’t feel charmed. It doesn’t feel bad. Not in the least. But it doesn’t feel charmed. It lacks.

It’s lonely at times. Without purpose at others. Often disorganized. And darn cold five months of year (thank you Chicago).

Amidst these realities, whenever life feels a little out of focus, I try to ground myself. Remember my relative place in the world.

If only it were that easy.

Life, as aforementioned, has to be tangible. Distant points of comparison – places like Rwanda – are nearly impossible to summons amidst daily struggles.

In this realm I’m a little envious of my Christian friends who are guided by faith. Friends who live via four empowering letters: WWJD (What Would Jesus Do). That's the only point of reference they need; it’s a constant reminder of their purpose on earth.

It’s as tangible as tangible gets.

Unfortunately, I’m not very in touch with JC these days. Most religions, including Christianity, feel a little too insular for me. I prefer creeds which endorse other beliefs and the potential for other deities. I have trouble with faith which is marketed as a one-size-for-all sweepstakes.

But this summer a former co-worker named Josie passed away. A five-year battle with breast cancer won out. She was 30 years-old.

Now I side with Christians in rallying around the letters "WWJD” – only my “J” stands for Josie. If Jesus knows anything about Josie, I’m sure he won’t mind sharing the stage.

Josie had an infectious personality. Her spirit, and joy, and laughter permeated throughout our office. She was a steadying presence amidst a group of strong personalities. On a daily basis, she improved our passionate, commerce-frenzied lot.

Josie’s memorial service was at the House of Blues in downtown Chicago, a venue capable of holding a thousand people. Nearly that many showed up. It was a blatant indication of how many people she touched, and what can be accomplished, in a very short amount of time on earth.

On that day perspective paid me a visit, and it's still hanging around today, reminding me that Josie would give anything to be in my shoes. To have one healthy day amongst us to be upset, or tired, or confused. One day – twenty-four hours -- would mean the world (and then another) to her.

And that, my friends, is tangible.

Like my grandfather’s passing almost a decade ago, Josie has become my motivational arm. Thinking about her reminds me of the triviality of my frustrations. She allows me to see the pettiness of my wants, most not even worthy of mention. And more than anything Josie reminds me to be thankful.

For every waking day.

So as one year elapses and another cranks into gear, I take this opportunity to write down a few of the things I’ve been thankful for in 2009. With a nudge towards prosperity and perspective, I encourage you to do the same.

I’m thankful for regular comforts that fill my working week: thin-crust pizza, glasses of Malbec, runs along the lake, Glee, and an iPod full of jazz and electronica.

I’m thankful for changes that came about this year: my ever-growing mane of hair, an improving dietary regimen, & the election of a President I once knew and believe in.

I’m thankful for my travels: westerly flights in winter, a drive to Kentucky for the Derby, golf on the Robert Trent Jones Trial, and a summer sojourn to the Iberian Peninsula – my beloved, emerging friend.

I’m thankful for my tenure as a consultant at Lakeshore Associates, which has offered me a low-stress means to a healthy income, while positioning me for greater prosperity and happiness in the years to come.

I’m thankful for people on the periphery of my life: the Sbucks barrista who adds free caramel sauce to my coffee (try it); the jubilant volunteer for the Salvation Army who sings carols on the corner of North Avenue, and the security officer at work who welcomes every building entrant with “you have a good day now.”

Most of all I’m thankful for all of you, my friends and family, inhabiting every corner of the globe from Spain to San Diego, Indianapolis to India, Westwood to Washington, Berlin to Boston, Nashville to the Knobs, and Copenhagen to Chicago.

Without friends and loved ones to share in the journey, whether in person or via your presence, my life would be less rewarding by leaps and bounds.

And if you reading this you are alive, and your eyesight is intact. Beyond those two realities, you have other reasons to be thankful. I’m sure of it.

Make note of those reasons. Mount the list on your dresser or add it to Outlook as a daily reminder.

I bet it will improve your focus. Make each day a little more meaningful.

Everyone needs a Josie.